


in red, she walks

by kinpika



Series: signed, sealed, delivered [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery
Genre: Bill and Fleur's wedding, F/M, Kind of inspired by the mood, Lots of lingering romantic feelings, Summer '97, almost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 08:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16761247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: Heart stopping kind of voice, Charlie had. Or maybe it was only her who felt that way, as she turns to greet him. Freckled and grinning, almost a little bashfully, as he stood beside her. Facing towards the end of the aisle, hands shoved into the pockets of his dress robes. Natasha noted, too, that he had still sported his longer hair, tightly pulled back and off his face. Perhaps his brothers weren’t joking about Charlie regrowing his hair after all.





	in red, she walks

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after being madly inspired by the wedding scene once more. Always meant to write something, guess tonight was the night.

With the summer sun beating down, Natasha watched as the crowd ahead slowly started to move. A twitch in her cheek has her turn to cover her face, while she listens to the bubbling emotions spill through people. Excitement and happiness, something that was becoming extremely hard to find in such a time. Almost fitting that it was Bill who was at the centre of it all. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually seen him, when she thought about it. Since having been employed by varying parties externally, her work at Gringotts had dropped significantly. They’d kept in contact, of course, but with the tighter restrictions on owls, and varying letters being intercepted, well. Natasha was surprised she had actually received her invitation. 

Adjusting the neck of her dress carefully, keeping in mind not to disrupt the beading too much, she was almost at the gate. There, she could see several familiar shocks of red hair standing, trying to direct the traffic towards their seating. So strange to see Fred and George cleaned up, although it made her quite conscious of how her hair sat. 

Finally at the front of the line. “Rhodes, Natasha.” She can see the snap of a head towards her, and how the twins settled into equally large grins. 

“Clean up well, Rhodes,” Fred, or George, offered, complete with a whistle and a wink. “Charlie’ll be impressed.”

An almost smug smile graces Natasha’s lips, but she peers over the little seating chart, ignoring the bait. Instead, starts with a “how is he?”

Found her name. On the groom’s side, near Tonks, it seemed. Several other names of friends hadn’t yet been ticked off, as hers slowly started to glow, once she stepped through the gate. Rowan hadn’t turned up yet, and neither had Penny. 

“Bit rough. Grew his hair back out last night after mum got to him.” There’s a snort, from Ron, at that comment. Natasha’s smile grew just a fraction more, before she squeezed both Fred and George tight. 

Holding up the line for long enough, she leaves with a wave to all of them, including the strange curly-haired boy she hadn’t seen before. “I’ll find my own way.”

No time to wait for them to respond, as they were back to busily trying to direct more guests. Natasha picks up her dress gently, and walked down the path to the marquee, spotting a few faces here and there that she recognised from varying places. Incredible, she thought, once inside, staring up at the ceiling of the marquee. Twined between the poles holding it up, were lights, streamers, and sweetly scented leaves, almost too soft to notice, but lingering behind. 

The delicate golden chairs seemed as if they would blow away, and perhaps it was a blessing that its as such a still day. Natasha had to stop herself, from walking the rest of the aisle. A momentary thought that she’d caught herself in, of what she might’ve missed out on, or wouldn’t happen yet. Not necessarily souring, but amusing, as her eyes seemed to drag the rest of the way up, to where balloons sat. 

“Hey, Nat.”

Heart stopping kind of voice, Charlie had. Or maybe it was only her who felt that way, as she turns to greet him. Freckled and grinning, almost a little bashfully, as he stood beside her. Facing towards the end of the aisle, hands shoved into the pockets of his dress robes. Natasha noted, too, that he had still sported his longer hair, tightly pulled back and off his face. Perhaps his brothers weren’t joking about Charlie regrowing his hair after all. 

“Charlie…” She does something out of character, perhaps a little influenced by the mood. Leans in, hand on his chest. Softly, barely brushing her lips against his. Enough for him to place a hand on her waist, holding her there. Romania had been months ago, her holiday cut short to tend to another job passed down at so-and-so’s recommendation. There, it had been easy to know, as if everything seemed to just fall away. Natasha remembered, as she pulled back, just how happy she was, watching Charlie work, while she did odd jobs around the sanctuary to help.

His ears were firmly red, almost as much as her dress was. A smile stretched across his face, all kinds of pleased, that had her feel a different kind of warm to what the summer wanted her to feel. Happy, she felt _happy_. 

Yet just as he leaned in once more, Natasha’s eyes already closing as his face drew closer, there was an awkward clearing of the throat. Charlie had stopped, mere millimetres from her lips, and Natasha turned on whoever it was to interrupt them.

She meets, with a quickly dying amount of annoyance, the bemused face of Tonks, arms folded over her chest as she surveyed the two. Ever the gentleman, Charlie does step back from Natasha, clearly remembering just where they were. Natasha pouts, despite herself, but does throw herself at Tonks once she opens her arms. 

“Haven’t changed, have you, Nat?” she teases, far too much laughter to be polite. 

When Natasha pulls back, trying to find something to say to save her pride, she notices the tiredness in Tonks’ eyes. Despite the shock of blonde hair she sported, her face seemed tight, like too much worry had wormed its way into her. Hands cup Tonks’ face, and Natasha leans in close then. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes give her away. Wavering, almost telling her the truth. As Tonks placed her hands over Natasha’s, she shook her head a little. “Let’s not drag the day down, alright?”

She didn’t want to let Tonks get away with not telling her, but the appearance of a figure behind her friend effectively closed the conversation. A man, one Natasha hadn’t ever met, stood. Tall and thin, but levelling Tonks with a warm gaze. 

“Natasha, this is my husband, Remus Lupin. Remus, I’ve told you about Natasha before. We broke curses together.”

The key word, ‘husband’, almost has her pause, but Natasha offers her hand with a smile. “A pleasure to meet you. How you managed to wrangle Tonks down, I’ll never know.”

Remus smiles, closed mouth and tense, but returns the handshake. “Pleasure to meet you as well. But I do believe she tied me down, first.”

An attempt at a joke, one that Natasha does only laugh at when Tonks goes a vivid pink in the cheeks. Almost immediately washing away the creases at the corners of her eyes, as she seems to forget that Natasha and Charlie were standing there. Natasha wants to say something about her prior interruption, but settles for squeezing her arm. 

“I’ll see you when we’re seated. I’m going to try to find anyone else.”

Tonks hugs her once more, fiercely and off guard. Returning the embrace tenfold, Natasha was sure they stood there for one minute, just the two of them. Something was eating at Tonks, she could tell. And it would be fair to say that the suspense was eating at her as well, perhaps even the smallest amount of fear. Whilst they stood, surrounded by the brilliant white and gold of a wedding party, just beyond the gate was what they were trying to forget. 

One more pat to the cheek, and Natasha turns to leave. Looping her arm through Charlie’s, she pulls him away. “Come along,” she tries to sing, as they step back out of the marquee. Nearly all the guests had arrived, it seemed, and Natasha could only see so many intricate hats, before knowing that she was walking into the wrong area of people. 

“Natasha, over there.”

Following Charlie’s extended finger, she finally spots a lingering crowd huddle by a flutterby bush. Natasha leads them, as they weave between other guests, until finding themselves in front of Rowan, Penny, Tulip and Barnaby. Whilst they hadn’t been noticed yet, Natasha took the time to let her eyes wander over each of her friends. How time had flown, too, since she had seen them all last. Treated them well, despite everything. Rowan was a little thinner in the face, sharper despite the laughter, Penny worn around the edges. Tulip was hovering, as if ready to run, and Barnaby seemed rather uncomfortable in his robes, from the way he kept moving his weight from foot to foot. 

“Natasha! Charlie!”

And yet, despite how tired they all looked, how afraid they all felt, that bubble of tension popped, as they exchanged hugs. Fierce and strong, Natasha caught several different whiffs of perfume, before being almost glued to Rowan’s side by sheer force alone. Warm and comforting there, just like she remembered. Barnaby had an arm around Charlie, and looked like he was almost about to cry.

“It’s not my wedding!” Charlie laughs, nudging him in the side, but not removing his arm from Barnaby’s shoulders. If anything, pulls him in tighter, just to remind him he was there.

“Doesn’t matter,” Barnaby almost blubbers, and Penny is the one laughing gently now, apparently taking up residence under his other arm. “This is what we needed, you know?”

Tulip continued to hover, but Natasha was having none of that. Reaching out, she takes Tulip’s hand, squeezing it firmly. Trying to remind her that it would _be_ okay. She had seen the paper clippings, of course she had. How the Ministry had been shaken from its roots. And Tulip, as much of an anarchist as she had once pleaded to be, had openly weeped over her parents’ positions, and what it meant now. 

Conversation changes pace, faster than Natasha could keep up. Amazement that Bill settled down. A tease that Rowan wasn’t the one to walk down the aisle (“ _Hey_ , I was a thirteen year old girl with a crush!”). Some shared whispers and concerns over what Fleur was like, all of which were perfectly smoothed over, as Charlie spoke rather highly of her. 

“Nothing to do with the Veela blood though, right Charlie?” Penny asks pointedly, with a brow raised. None of them could deny, as several of Fleur’s cousins almost dance past them immediately, enrapturing all. 

Except, Charlie shakes his head, and hitches a thumb in the direction of his family. His younger brothers, in particular, who hurried after the cousins not a moment later. “They have more interest in that sort of thing than I do.” Winks at Natasha with that comment, which she only rolls her eyes at. 

Someone goes to say something, or other, and there’s a clap magnified tenfold. Ready to start, it seemed, with how the crowd moved towards the marquee once more. 

“I should go,” Charlie notes, as they all could see Mrs Weasley standing, rather harried, as if trying to find him. 

Rowan makes a noise of agreement, and a shooing motion with her hand. “You _are_ the best man, after all.”

He makes a face, somewhere between the raising of his brows and a slight smile, before going to turn away. Natasha moves then, freeing herself from Rowan and Tulip to tug at his sleeve. Charlie turns to her, the confusion evident on his face, and she only brushes her hands over his shoulders, smoothing out creases. Straightening the flower on his chest, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear. 

“You look great.” Robes now sitting perfectly, Natasha removes her hands, threading her fingers together. And he _did_ , but she quietly thought to herself that she had always thought he had, regardless. Covered in mud with twigs in his hair, or the remains of one of Penny’s experimental potions, Charlie had always managed to catch her eye. 

Charlie makes a little noise, and presses his lips against her forehead. “So do you. See you soon.”

“Alright.”

“Charlie? Oh, there you are, Charlie you need to—Natasha, dear, so good to see you—”

“Mrs Weasley,” Natasha greets, as the ever flustered form of Charlie’s mother finally approaches their group.

“Molly, dear, you can call me Molly. But yes, come along, your brother is waiting, we need to start…”

Watching how Charlie just seems to roll his eyes at the way she too, smoothed the front of his robes, Natasha could only offer a “he’s all yours, Mrs Weasley.” Did nothing to help with the way he frowned at her. But he’s lead away by his mother with a backwards wave.

As they seemed to be the last few outside, now that the family had officially disappeared into the marquee, Natasha turns to her friends behind her. “Come on. Let’s get our seats.”

Third row from the front, easing in between family with apologies, the six of them manage to sit. A little wave behind, to Tonks, who returned it eagerly. Natasha manages to catch Bill’s eye, who only grinned terrifically, if a little nervously. Giving him a thumbs up, and a mouthed ‘love you’, which he returns quickly. Truly, Natasha couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked this happy — and his bride had yet to walk the aisle. 

Bill says something aside to Charlie, who looks over at them as well. Waves, and bends closer to continue whispering to Bill. As the music starts then, and the crowd goes to stand, Natasha watches how Bill seemed to positively glow. But her gaze moves, then, when she notices that Charlie was not focused on the bride. 

But her.

Natasha couldn’t find the words for what she felt, as her heart swelled. As Fleur seemed to glide past their seats, and everyone moved to sit once more when she reached the front. Even as Bill took her hands in his, and Rowan offered a tissue to Penny. When Barnaby just held her hand so tightly, his other arm hugging Tulip to his side, Charlie only seemed to be looking at her. 

_I love you_ , she says, with her entire being then. 

As Bill and Fleur kiss, the balloons above popping in a shower of confetti, and everyone around them roaring with applause, Charlie says it back. _I love you, always_.

Not long after the ceremony, does Natasha find herself at a table with Tonks, talking about anything and everything. More closely, the last few years, with aurors and relationships, and Harry Potter, Dumbledore, being thrown on the table. Penny only chimes in when needed, as Tulip had taken up with being the only one to divulge details of the hurried wedding between Tonks and Remus, being one of the few witnesses to the union. And Natasha can see, with how Tonks seems to level Tulip with a warm, honest stare, with how they held hands despite the way Tulip seemed revitalised, teasing Tonks mercilessly, that she missed her. Treasured her. 

Natasha hadn’t realised how much she had missed this. Surrounded by such people, such _friends_ , made her feel. She would complain it was the champagne, making her feel weepy and vulnerable, but Barnaby sweeps her into a dance, and who was she to refuse? Merlin’s beard, she had forgotten just how broad Barnaby was, how safe he was. 

“How have you been, Barnaby?” she asks, when he spins her for a third time. 

“Great! Had a meeting with Newt Scamander last week, and he’s impressed with one of my works. I’ll be going overseas in a couple of weeks.” Barnaby’s tone is sure and measured, nothing like the boy he had been. Whilst his robes were a brilliantly deep green, as if to reflect that part of him too, Barnaby had grown. Natasha could see it, heart caught in her throat as she was so proud.

“That’s fantastic!” And he spins her once more. “I’m so happy for you!”

“How about you? How are you after… Durmstrang?” With a dark look, he does seem to catch a glimpse of the scars on her arm. Whilst she was not ashamed of them, Natasha was acutely aware that even under her dress, the worst of the damage could be seen in between the beading.

“I’ve been good. Doing a few odd jobs here and there.” Perhaps it was not safe, to mention that Durmstrang had asked for her to return once more. She distinctly remembered how Barnaby had been the one by her side at Saint Mungo’s for the longest time, quite afraid to leave. Even roped in his idol into helping identify what it had been that had attacked her. 

“Still curse-breaking?”

“Of course!” Natasha laughs, trying to ease the mood. No need to worry about that now. 

Just as Barnaby goes to dip her, there’s a form beside them. As they stop, Natasha lets out a “Bill!” while Barnaby forgoes decorum, and simply pulls him into a tight hug. 

“Congratulations,” he says, voice thick once more. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks mate,” Bill responds, patting Barnaby on the back once more. “Glad you could make it.”

There’s a little half shrug from Barnaby, that doesn’t say much of anything. Only allows for Bill to pull Natasha into a fierce hug. She doesn’t want to let go, not really, after having him in her arms like this after all the time that had passed. Natasha doesn’t want to question the scars, the whispers. Only pulls back when she manages to stop herself from crying, and has to push him in the shoulder, laughter breaking in the back of her throat. “I can’t believe you got married before me!”

Bill, for his part, only laughs. “Not that you’re in any rush for it.” To the point, with how his eyes seem to quickly find the corner of the marquee. Natasha knew exactly which corner he was looking at, and tried very hard to smother her next look.

“Mind if I dance with Natasha for a bit?”

Barnaby waves them off, then. Almost manages to get off the floor, before being dragged right back on by Rowan. For her part, Natasha isn’t given much time to watch, as Bill takes her by the hand, and slowly begins stepping around. 

“I missed you.”

Natasha really was going to cry, very, _very_ soon. “I missed you, too.” How crazy it was, to be like this now. She could clearly remember standing likely in the exact same spot, only stargazing over summer, or making plans for the next year. What was she supposed to do with her friend now, really? Bill was practically shaking under her hands, nerves not quite worn off. She was so _happy_ for him.

“Fleur… she’s beautiful, you know.”

He hums, and Natasha knows that look. Immediately seeking her out amongst the crowd, at the drop of her name. Knew that look, because it was exactly how she was, so madly in love. “She loves you, Bill. So much.”

“I would hope so. She did agree to marry me, after all.”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha has to argue a “not like that, idiot,” as he goes to spin her. “I mean it. You can just feel it off her. She’s so happy to have you in her life.” And that was the honest truth. Perhaps it was just the entire wedding itself, but Fleur had been nothing but bold faced and embracing of her feelings during the ceremony. Whispers or no, Natasha had seen, first hand, just how much this woman loved her best friend. 

“I know.” Natasha hoped that Bill truly knew.

They grow silent, then, one more time around the dance floor. Just as the song was coming to a close, does Bill finally speak up once more.

“So, you and Charlie…” trails off, expectedly and purposely. 

Natasha raises a brow, misses a step. They come to a standstill, still hand in hand. “What about ‘me and Charlie’?”

“ _Ah_ , don’t get defensive on me,” Bill chides her, with a pointed look. “I’m just asking if you’re back on or something.”

“I wouldn’t know. Why?” 

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’? Natasha, it’s been _ten_ years already—” The way Bill stresses that, gives Natasha some realisations she wasn’t quite prepared for. But she bats those thoughts away, her next question already on the tip of her tongue.

“Where is this coming from?” a small amount of anger colours her tone, enough to raise her voice. 

And had Bill not suddenly looked rather embarrassed suddenly, Natasha probably would’ve gotten a little more upset. The sudden change threw her off the scent, instead having her ask the question once more, this time a little more gentle. “Bill, where is this all coming from?”

“He made me promise not to say.”

That wasn’t good. “ _Bill_.” 

“Natasha, just thank me later.” At that, Bill actually skirts off, tail between his legs. Whatever it was, he really wanted to say. Which could only mean several sorts of answers that Natasha wasn’t quite ready for, really.

No? Could he…? Not to be swept up in her thoughts, Natasha turns, and collides with a rather firm chest. Hands catch her shoulders, steadying her immediately. She knew those hands quite well, and this was beginning to be a series of events she wasn’t sure she was ready for. But it _had_ been ten years, just as Bill stressed. What did it all mean?

Charlie holds her upright, and his expression is soft, if a little watery. She had seen him singing with Hagrid before, and could only guess they’d shared a glass or two of fire whiskey. Not that it changed how he hugged her, firmly. Natasha slowly returned it, heart thumping in her chest. _Oh_. Well, this was the kind of celebration where people got that sort of thing into their heads.

When Charlie pulls back, he’s a little more sure. She could tell, how his shoulders were set and square, eyes a little tight at the corners. Almost like he was going to ask her ‘to talk’. Natasha wasn’t sure what she would say, if those words came tumbling out, because her hands couldn’t stop shaking at the thought. 

Except, _except_ , just as Charlie goes to open his mouth, a shot of light appears in the centre of the dance floor. 

_“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”_


End file.
